Silver Tongue and Golden Wit
by Aroihkin
Summary: A therapist of sorts dares to deal with the Master of Past and Present's... issues. Angst, slash, and more angst.
1. Chapter 1

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 09.12.05:

First chapter is tiny, sorry. They generally are. XD This story is, I admit, mostly to help balance my writing against the het romance of "The Akara Files". It's not likely to be updated as much or often as TAF, but... who can tell? Either way, Raistlin certainly can't complain.

Thanks to Panther for the title. It's so perfect. :D

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( one )

The Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas was, perhaps, the most feared structure on all of Krynn. And for good reason... cursed with the dying breath of one of its own black-robes, held silent and empty by the powers of the Abyss itself until the foretold Master of Past and Present would come to claim it as his own. And he had... that dark Mage from Solace, with his cursed vision and strange looks. He'd walked right into the place, claimed it as his, and then the world had begun to hold its breath tighter yet, wondering. What would Raistlin Majere do next?

Tannusen Ashkeveron knew all of this. He also knew that said Master of Past and Present was waiting for him, that the blue stone in his pocket had been sent by that very same Mage to allow him to come through the Grove... if he dared. And Tannusen definitely dared. Though he looked extremely out of place, dressed in all -_white_- in a place like this.

Dark marble, now that he stood close to the structure. It was really quite finely-made, wasn't it? If twisted by the curse, blackened as though burnt, a featureless black obelisk from a distance, jutting up against the clear blue sky... the very picture of defiance against the light. Tannusen circled the building, one of his gloved hands dragging against the smooth stone of the wall.

He was no longer alone by the time he made full circle around the structure, a form as dark and imposing as the stone and magic he had been admiring stood abruptly before him, hood up and hands hidden inside long sleeves. Still, even without the tell-tale sign of golden skin visible, there was only one person it -_could_- be, and Tannusen approached carefully. Once within comfortable speaking range, the tall blond bowed deeply, elegant as any elf could ever manage.

"I didn't mean to keep you waiting, I was... admiring your Tower." his purring voice reached out almost visibly, caressing the tense figure before him like a warm breeze.

"Were you?"

"Oh yes." Tannusen straightened, and pushed his long white-blond hair back over his shoulders with the flick of one gloved hand. "The craftsmanship is exquisite."

"This, coming from an elf."

"Ah, I should have realized you would know my blood." he smiled, knowing that while his long hair carefully hid his pointed ears, his birthright was as clear as day to Raistlin's cursed vision, "But I was not raised as one, should you care to know it."

The hooded head inclined a bit, thoughtful.

"Would you care to see the inside, then?"

"Oh, yes." Tannusen's enthusiasm was never fake, nor was his wide grin, "I'd -_love_- to."

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 12.07.05:

Apparently the chapters to this one are just going to be shortish. X-x

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( two )

After the tour had come to an end the Archmage had led him to the study, gone to stand next to his desk, and had then suddenly demanded information. If Tannusen ever said that he'd been surprised by it, though, he would have been lying. Badly.

"What, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish this way?"

"I need you to become... if not entirely comfortable, yet, then at least not as alarmed at my mere existence." Tannu said, simply, seeing no reason to lie.

"But... comfort," Raistlin pronounced the word strangely, with disdain slightly higher than his usual tone. He'd almost stumbled over it, actually. Tannu noted this, tilting his head slightly to one side as he watched the Mage. That hood was still up, even after the tour, obscuring his face entirely. "is your next goal."

"Yes, it is." said the blond, "It is a prerequisite to helping you, even."

The Archmage snorted, leaning against his Staff.

"And you believe you will gain this comfort, by pretending to be interested in the Tower of High Sorcery?" Raistlin drawled, seemingly at ease. There was a tenseness in the hands that was not explained simply by holding his weight against the Staff of Magius, however. Nothing large, nothing obvious.

Tannusen didn't need obvious, not when it came to body-language.

"I'm not pretending. The Tower is a looming, dark shape that inspires fear and distrust from afar, but if one can view it closer... it is quite amazing." Tannu smiled, just faintly, "Does that sound familiar?"

"Flattery, then."

"Presence, more like. And not for comfort yet, Mister Majere, simply a lack of alarm. If I wished to truly attempt flattery, you would find a marked difference between how I act now... and how I would act then."

"And yet you insist that I am alarmed." the Mage sneered.

"Do you ordinarily keep your face and eyes hidden in your own domain?"

Raistlin didn't flinch, but his breath did catch. Just a little, and without a cough accompanying it.

"I do not wish to shock you." came the Mage's lie, and Tannu sighed, bowing his head for a moment before launching his response back.

"I can see your skin tone on your hands, plain as day, Mister Majere. As vivid as the scales of a golden dragon. And while I know it will be something of a shock to see that same color on a face, around the eyes and stretched over the cheekbones, I do feel that I will survive it." he smiled wryly, then, deciding to push at Raistlin's defenses a bit.

"Besides," said the blond, "I'm certain to be seeing much more than that, by the time we part ways for the final time."

This time, the Mage's repressed reaction -_did_- trigger a coughing fit. Tannu did nothing, said nothing, simply watched with his hands at his side.

"You do not seem like a... whore." Raistlin rasped out after the fit had passed, dabbing the blood away from his mouth, which Tannusen could mostly see now that the hood had slipped askew.

"I'm not." the blond replied, pointedly watching the Mage's mouth, "I don't do this for a living."

"What -_do_- you do, then?" came the impatient snarl.

"I kill people."

"A soldier, then?"

"Assassin, actually."

"You are here to kill me?"

"No. Though I did consider it." There was a stony, dead silence for a few moments, and then he continued. "I promise, Mister Majere, not to attempt to hurt you, if you promise not to kill -_me_-. I've things to do while I'm alive that haven't been completed yet."

"A promise to not hurt in exchange for a promise not to kill?" Raistlin laughed, "What would stop me, then, from hurting -_you_-?"

"Absolutely nothing." Mischievous blue eyes had briefly lost their spark, the Ashkeveron was being so serious. "In fact, if it helps you to do so, you have my full consent. I simply ask to leave functioning at the same level physically, and mentally, that I am now."

"Ridiculous."

"I generally am." Tannu smiled gently. "But this isn't about, or for, myself."

"And if it was?"

"I'd be dead, Mister Majere, and this conversation would not be happening."

"And so telling me that you are an active assassin, who considered murdering me, is supposed to make me feel at ease around you?"

"Yes."

Raistlin seemed taken aback a bit by this blunt honesty, and Tannusen's slightly lopsided smile didn't waver.

"Ah, so you hope to disarm me with your honesty."

"Is it working?"

"Are you always so honest?" Notably, the Mage hadn't exactly answered.

"Nope. Usually I lie quite a bit when I meet somebody new."

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.

Review-replies are no longer allowed by this site. It makes me a sad panda.  
I'll figure -_something_- out. X-x


	3. Chapter 3

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 12.10.05:

Thank you all for reviewing, by the way! Fanfic dot net has, like I mentioned earlier, banned doing "review replies" in chapters, and only replying to signed reviews in private squicks me.

I'll think of something. In the meantime, have a chapter! (_:D_)

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( three )

"Actually, I must admit that I'm curious, Mister Majere." the elf continued as the Archmage finally went around his desk and eased himself into his chair, allowing the Staff of Magius to lean against a nearby book case.

"About?" Raistlin flicked his hood back off of his head entirely, and folded his hands on his desk, settling that eerie stare on the blond.

Tannusen simply smiled.

"Why you accepted? The Conclave hired me to help you with your... repression issues, but, you could have easily just not let me enter the Grove had you wished to decline." came Tannusen's forever-purring voice, and he tilted his head slightly to one side. "I was quite surprised when your letter and this stone--" the blond produced the rock in question from his pocket, "--appeared at my door."

Raistlin said nothing for a moment, strange eyes narrowing slightly.

/ _He's not -_really_- trying to set me on fire with that glare, is he? I imagine he could do it if that's what he was up to._ / the blond's easy smile didn't waver as he gracefully sat down in the chair directly across from Majere and set the blue key stone on the desk between them.

The stare flickered once from Tannusen to the rock, and then back again.

"You're trying to figure me out?" the blond mused out loud, "See if I'll start rambling about trivial things like what I had for breakfast if you stare at me long enough?"

Raistlin blinked, but then continued the silent assault as if to call his bluff.

"Toast and tea, Mister Majere. It was delicious." the elf beamed at him, sitting back in the chair and setting his arms on the rests, completely at ease here in the monster's den. He crossed one leg over the other, idly flexing the suspended foot back and forth from inside the white leather of his boot. The effect was much like a cat's tail, swishing from side to side

"Don't be ridiculous." the Mage finally sneered, tearing his eyes away from the slightly strange movement.

"No, truly, that's what I had!"

"That," Raistlin hissed, "is -_not_- what I meant. And you know it." the long fingers, laced together on the polished wooden desk, tensed briefly. "They didn't hire to you to... to 'help' me."

"Of course not, Mister Majere." Tannusen replied, patiently, "They want me to kill you, but I already told you that I'm not going to do that."

"You plan to 'help' me instead, then?"

"That's why I showed up..."

"And who is to pay you for your good deed, then, if not the Conclave?" Raistlin sneered, sitting back a bit further in his chair. "I surely won't."

"No, of course not." Tannusen replied, sliding his foot back to the floor and lacing his own gloved fingers over his stomach as he stared steadily back at the Mage. "I told you, I don't do this for a living."

"You said that you are not a... whore." the Archmage colored, just slightly across the cheekbones, and it was a miracle that the blond managed to keep from grinning outright at this development. Really, he'd gotten the man to blush, and he hadn't even done anything yet!

"A whore is someone who gets paid for it, Mister Majere." his purr was pitched just a fraction lower than usual. "I sell enough of myself without resorting to that."

"So you..." Raistlin ground to a halt, and un-knit his hands just long enough to gesture vaguely at the seated blond in general.

"Will probably sleep with you?" Tannusen asked innocently.

"I..." the Archmage looked -_distinctly_- uncomfortable, all of a sudden. But still so very controlled about it. "That's not--"

"It's very likely." the blond interrupted, "I'm certainly willing if it helps, but I refuse to rush into things like that, and..." he lowered his eyes to the desk, "well, I'm not sure you'd be interested anyway."

Raistlin, to his credit, didn't take the bait in either direction. Tannusen was a master at this art, however, and didn't look up again until the Mage cleared his throat.

"And how do you suppose any of that would help." Raistlin said. It was a question, but delivered in such a flat tone that it sounded like a statement. Tannusen quirked an eyebrow slightly at that, wondering at how much it bothered the Archmage to be exposed to even the -_hint_- of seduction. Tread carefully, indeed...

"If I simply explained it, Mister Majere, or even -_could_- explain it properly, it..." he shrugged just slightly, "it would make absolutely no sense to you. I suppose the only way to satisfy your curiosity it to simply let me help you... it isn't like I could force you if you decided to stop treatment."

"Hmm."

"I'll tell you the rules first, then, shall I?"

"The rules?" Raistlin sneered, again, and Tannusen simply smiled gently. If the legendary Mage would simply stop sneering, glowering, and glaring constantly, his mood probably wouldn't be so rotten all the time.

"Yes, Mister Majere. The rules. You didn't think I would inflict myself on you without some ground rules, did you?"

"..." the Mage simply stared.

"Well, I wouldn't." said the blond. "So here's the first one. If at any time things are getting too personal too fast, you can tell me to slow down. And I will."

"That's it?" Raistlin unlaced his fingers, setting his hands palm-down on the desk as though about to stand up.

"There -_is_- a catch." Tannusen interjected, and watched, calculating, as the golden eyes took on a distinct glint of triumph and the Mage settled back into his chair. But he continued before the other man could interrupt verbally, "It won't seem like much of one just now, but later... it will. You can tell me to slow down, Mister Majere, but you cannot tell me to hurry up. Or rather, if you -_do_-, I'll just ignore it."

"No rushing." said the Archmage after a scant moment's thoughtful staring.

"That's exactly right. You can slow me down, you can put a stop to the whole thing, but you won't ever get me to rush through things... that's simply not what I'm here for."

"...Makes sense, I would suppose."

"Good!" Tannusen beamed, "And that brings me right to rule number two. If you don't understand why I'm doing something, you can ask." he held up a hand to avoid being interrupted, "However, the rule in that is if you ask me, and I tell you, and you're still confused... you have to cooperate so that you -_do_- get it. And if it still seems like rubbish to you after that, I'll simply never try that method again."

"What exactly are you going to be -_doing_- to me, Mr. Ashkeveron?"

"Comfort, remember? And I suppose trust, of a sort, but I know full well that has to be earned." he shrugged, "And again, the way to get there is something you'll just have to find out by trying it."

"Hmm, continue." Raistlin was frowning, just slightly, and the fingers of his right hand began tapping idly against the desk top. Nerves?

"That brings me along to questions about myself, Mister Majere. I take it to understand that you are a very curious individual who enjoys few things as much as unraveling another psyche and laying their secrets out in the air." at the Mage's blink of momentary surprise, he continued, "The Conclave did warn me about that, Mister Majere. I'm actually fairly open about most things, but even they realized that an assassin must keep secrets."

"And so I am not to ask?" the Archmage sneered contemptuously, "I hardly--"

"That isn't it at all." Tannusen interjected, "Actually, I'm fairly certain that knowing how screwed up -_I_- am would help you to not feel so uneasy around me. Whereas most people would run screaming from the room if I told them what went on inside my head." a soft, sad smile quirked at Tannusen's lips. "But at the same time, this isn't my therapy. And I won't let it be about myself, even if you try to shift the focus."

"And so?"

"And so in exchange for you not killing me and... how did I put it? Ah, yes, letting me 'leave functioning at the same level physically, and mentally, that I am now', I will truthfully answer any question pertaining to myself at the end of each session."

He allowed that to take effect, watching the calculating gleam pass over the strange hourglass eyes. Predatory, even, was how you could describe that look. Information of any kind was definitely Raistlin Majere's... weakness? Well, maybe less of that and more of 'the best bait to use, ever'.

"The final rule is that the schedule, with the exception of tomorrow, is going to be set by you. A week at a time."

"Mr. Tannusen." the fingers stopped tapping, and Raistlin leaned forward a few inches, "I haven't exactly accepted."

"No, but, you haven't exactly kicked me out yet, either. You might have to come to a decision at some point here, Mister Majere." the blond smiled again, "In the meantime I will simply assume that my continued presence here means you have decided to give this a shot, if only for curiosity's sake."

"...Hmm."

"Now as I was saying, the schedule needs to be done a week at a time. Simply whatever time you want me to show up, and for however long you wish me to stay. Although I will strongly advise against having me stay here overnight, as you are going to need your space."

"You do not wish to stay in the Tower?" Majere blinked.

"If at some future point you wish me to sleep in the same room as yourself, then I will stay. However, I would very much prefer not to take up a spare room here when I am paying for a room at a perfectly good inn a mere quarter hour's stroll away. Like I said, you will need your space."

"Ah." Raistlin looked slightly... confused? But it was quickly swept away behind that carefully sneering mask, and Tannusen didn't comment on the minor slip. "And tomorrow?"

/ _I have him thinking, that's for certain._ /

"I will come back here at noon, just like today, to find out your decision."

"I see." the Mage sat back, his eyes a little bit unfocussed. Had him thinking indeed, the Archmage was practically out of it for all of the information he was trying to process at speed. Tannusen smiled at that almost uncertain comment, and stood to collect the key stone from the desk. It was time to leave and let Raistlin think in peace.

"Well, you will." he said, and bowed low again before showing himself out.

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.

Review-replies are no longer allowed by this site. It makes me a sad panda.  
I'll figure -_something_- out. X-x


	4. Chapter 4

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 12.21.05:

I still haven't decided if Dalamar will be in the story, what do you guys think? In the meantime... first session, go!

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( four )

Noon. Raistlin met Tannusen at the base of the Tower again, although this time his hood was down and the sun was allowed to play off of the metallic skin of the Archmage's features. The blond halted a moment just inside the tree-line to take this in, before entering the clearing, and Raistlin's expression turned somewhat more... guarded, at that pause.

"Alarming?" rasped the Mage once the blond had come to a halt several feet away.

"Not at all." Tannu smiled gently.

"You... hesitated, most pointedly." the Mage replied, nearly attacking the elf with his voice alone.

"Mister Majere... at the risk of sounding as though I am attempting flattery--do you know what jewelers often display their wares upon?" Tannusen was simply frowned at for a moment, and then Raistlin nodded shortly. So the blond continued, "It simply struck me as poetic that you wear black velvet, Mister Majere. Poetic but... apt."

"Again, flattery." Raistlin retorted.

"I do not attempt flattery around you Mister Majere, it simply comes naturally and without effort." the blond's smile didn't waver, and he was quiet for a moment before coming to the point. "Have you decided whether you will try me or not?"

"I will try your..." he seemed to have issues with this announcement, "methods, Mr. Ashkeveron. If only out of morbid curiosity."

"We may as well start today, then, unless you have other plans...? No? Well then, if you would choose a room for us to work in this time..."

"Certainly." Majere inclined his head, smirking coldly, before he turned to lead the way into the Tower. Again. The blond followed without further comment, curious as to what battleground--so the speak--the Mage would choose for their first session.

- - -(_The Library_)- - -

Tannusen's gaze swept the room, twice, as the blond turned to look at everything. In the first round, he took in what he was supposed to--the towering book cases stuffed full of what had to be at least -_mostly_- magical books and artifacts, the expensive rugs, the carved furniture. It was daunting and cold, more than a little bit like standing in a museum.

By the second round, however, he'd shifted his focus entirely.

His booted feet slowly turned him once more as he took in a frayed cushion here, a ring from a tea mug there, a scuffed bit of carpet, a tiny bloodstain on one of those same carpets near the leg of a table. He wasn't supposed to notice the organic things, the signs that this was a well-lived-in room, and so that's exactly what he focused on until he'd turned all the way around again.

Raistlin was watching him, staring hard with cold, calculating golden eyes.

"And this room will suffice?" asked the Mage.

"Oh, certainly." Tannu smiled cheerfully, "Why wouldn't it?"

The blond watched for the flicker of carefully-suppressed surprise, and was not left disappointed. Barely a trace, barely a hint, but it had been there--just for that one split second before being trapped and pulled behind the mask. Such an expert manipulator, this Raistlin Majere was, that he would attempt to use the very -_room_- as a tool against Tannusen.

/ _I can see why I was the only real choice for the Conclave._ / the blond thought/ _Unfortunately for them, I cannot be bribed into killing someone I don't want to kill._ /

"You thought that I would be daunted at best, distracted at worst, from doing whatever I had planned if you chose this room?" asked the elf, after a long enough pause in which it seemed Majere would simply not say a word in reply.

/_ Ironic that I will do exactly what their lie--their cover story, perhaps--said that I would do. _/

"I suppose that was the idea." Raistlin finally admitted, his tone dry.

"Ah ha, well." Tannusen strode across the room to the fireplace and plucked the large cushion off of a nearby, intricately carved wooden chair. He returned to the desk's side of the room, beaming at the Mage. "Your desk is fairly sturdy, isn't it? Heavy? Hard to move?"

"I... yes?" Majere blinked, clearly taken by surprise by the seemingly random questions. He eyed the bit of furniture, its dark surface entirely taken up by books and scrolls and bits of parchment. Three different ink wells containing three different substances sat next to one another, right by an assortment of quills from various types of bird.

"No need to look worried, Mister Majere. I'm not going to disturb your..." a vague gesture at it all with the hand not holding the pillow, "...uh... stuff."

"How eloquent." the Archmage sneered, eyes flickering back to the elf.

"So I'm told!" said the entirely undaunted blond, beaming at Raistlin. And then--much to the Mage's bemusement--he abruptly turned and sat down on the floor in front of the desk. Leaning carefully back against the paneled front of the heavy furniture, he pushed a bit deliberately and was pleased to find it didn't move.

Squirming a bit, the elf went about getting as comfortable as one could really manage while sitting on a floor and leaning against a carved wooden surface. Tannusen looked up after a moment of this to find that Raistlin had walked around the side of the desk to stare at him in puzzlement. His smile, which had faded naturally to a simple quirk of the lips, came back a bit as he set the cushion down in front of him.

"Have a seat? Back to me, if you don't mind."

"I--what--" Raistlin blinked, looking from elf to cushion and back again. "Why..."

"I'm going to teach you a breathing technique." the assassin said, cheerfully, "Even if it doesn't end up helping my cause, you should find it useful in the future... what with the way your lungs are."

"But the cushion..."

"Is between my legs, yes." Tannusen finished for him, looking down a moment. His legs, white-clad again, were splayed off to either side of the large cushion, which was pulled close. But really, there wasn't anything suggestive about it.

But then, he -_was_- dealing with Majere. And Majere, he knew, had some serious issues. That was why he was here, after all. The blond considered this for a moment before turning his face back up to the faintly-blushing Mage, who looked like he'd just been asked to strip for an audience rather than simply sit down.

"I'm not going to molest you, Mister Majere. I promise." Tannu patted the cushion and smiled reassuringly. It wasn't until the Archmage grudgingly leaned his Staff against the desk next to them and settled down that the blond gave in and added, "Well, yet anyway."

Raistlin tensed visibly, and Tannusen sighed.

"Mister Majere... I promised not to hurt you, and that includes unwanted sexual contact. It was an ill-timed joke, I apologize." Tannusen said, relaxing as much as he could manage so that hopefully Majere would pick up on it. "Besides, you'd have a demon eat me if I was the sort to try."

That earned him a snort, and a--gradually--somewhat less rigid Archmage.

"Now what?" Raistlin finally asked when it became apparent that Tannusen would truly move no further without his prompt.

"If I may have permission to touch you?" his question was rewarded with a startled choking sound that quickly devolved into a coughing fit, the Mage's thin shoulders shaking with the force and his back bending him forward. When it passed, Raistlin slowly sat back up, dabbing away the blood with that ever-hidden handkerchief.

"You want to -_what_-?" Majere finally demanded, turning a bit to glare at Tannusen, "If this is another 'ill-timed joke'..."

"It isn't." said the blond, spreading his gloved hands, "It's just that I won't so much as touch another person's shoulder without some sort of permission. And if this is going to work, then..."

"Fine." Raistlin snapped, eyes narrowed daringly.

"Excellent!" Tannusen beamed, and wrapped both of his arms carefully around the frail Mage's torso, one over the stomach and one over the chest. Raistlin actually -_hissed_- in surprise at the sudden embrace, but was pulled firmly back against the elf before he could protest. "There, now. Just use me as a back-rest of a sort, alright?"

"What are you -_doing_-!" the Mage had gone stock still again, as tense as a spooked horse about to bolt. But he hadn't gone for his spell components just yet, so Tannu figured he was at least avoiding being lit on fire. Raistlin's arms were both free, his mouth was unhindered, nothing would stop the Mage from blasting him if he decided to do so.

"Relax, this is all I'm doing." his always-purring voice was pitched quiet, soft even.

"Let go!"

"If I let go, then I'm going to have to leave, Mister Majere. Calm down, it's alright." this was one of those situations in which he strongly wished the purr was intentional and not simply built in. It was doing very little to help him convince Raistlin that his intentions were honest, and he knew it. The Mage himself was shaking just slightly, sitting perfectly upright within Tannusen's loose embrace, not leaning back against him at all.

"Physical contact is necessary for this, as is your relaxing." the elf continued after a moment, resting his head back against the desk, "Take your time, Mister Majere."

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.

Review-replies are no longer allowed by this site. It makes me a sad panda.  
I'll figure -_something_- out. X-x


	5. Chapter 5

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 01.18.2006:

The only opinion I got on whether Dalamar should be in the story or not was a yes, so that they could have a threesome. :shakes her head and laughs:

Guys, serious. I'm barely going to manage to get him to shag one elf, let alone two of them at the same time! XD Hot though that may be for the rest of us to imagine, I think poor Raistlin would faint away for days!

Review-replies can be found on the newly-opened arowrites dot net. Yay!

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( five )

"Just relax." Tannusen's voice was warm air against the side of his neck, a light vibration against his shoulder-blades as the mage finally allowed himself to be pulled back against the elf. He remained tense, waiting to see what would come of this small cooperation, but the blond's hands did not shift, and the assassin made absolutely no move to restrict him.

In fact, the arms wrapped loosely around Raistlin seemed intended for exactly what their owner had said; plain physical contact. Grudgingly, the archmage began to do as he was asked, slowly beginning to relax... or at least as much as one could really force themselves to.

"Good, good." the elf said after the mage was fully slumped against him, nearly rag-doll, "Now, how deeply can you breathe without problems?"

"Not very." Raistlin admitted quietly, unconsciously lulled further by Tannusen's continued calmness. Later when he would think about it, he would realize what the blond had done. But he would also draw a connection between this use of body language, and the way he had tried to use the setting itself to subdue the elf. A pair of expert manipulators at work, truly, it was no wonder the Conclave had sought the blond out for this supposed job.

"Breathe as deeply as you may without issue, Mister Majere." the assassin instructed, and Raistlin did so, quickly realizing that Tannusen was matching his breath. The elf he leaned against inhaled when he, Raistlin, inhaled, and likewise for exhaling. Tannusen's heartbeat began to slow down with the restriction on air, for Raistlin's deepest breath was shallow at best to most.

The matched rising and falling of the chest against his back lulled him into an almost trance-like state, the archmage not noticing when he began to match the elf in return. Tannusen gradually deepened their breathing, so slowly that the mage continued to mimic without realizing what was happening, and without so much as a hint of his airway threatening to close.

In, pause. Out, pause. Even their heartbeats began to match after a while, and hours passed unmarked as Raistlin's mind also slowed down. It was almost like sleep, but not quite so focused as that. There was nothing but the breathing in, the breathing out, and the heartbeats gradually coming to pulse in synch. Hypnotic, like watching snow fall outside of his window...

"There, you see?"

Raistlin was pulled out of this almost meditative state by the elf's voice, and he blinked to realize that the room was darkened. How long had they been this way? And how had he lost track of himself so thoroughly as to be completely relaxed against the elf, held up only by the arms wrapped loosely around his torso? Even his neck had rebelled against him, his head resting back against the elf's shoulder as the hours had worn on.

"See what?" he snapped, sitting up. The archmage was distinctly angry at himself.

"Your breathing, mister Majere." Tannusen's voice was soft, lulling. Raistlin's shoulders slumped as he relaxed again despite himself, although not nearly to that same state. He took stock of his breathing, realized how deeply he was allowing his lungs to fill, and his throat immediately closed.

Raistlin saw stars as he coughed, raggedly, his vision sputtering as his airway rebelled further. Tannusen let go of him at the first sign so that he could lean forward, instinctually, as he struggled for air. No matter how he gasped, his lungs wouldn't fill enough to sustain him before he coughed again.

The mage panicked as he always did, clawing at his throat with one hand as a pair of warm hands settled against his neck and shoulders, unnoticed. Slowly, Raistlin found his throat opening again, and he slowly became aware of the gentle massage taking place.

"What," he snarled between wheezing breaths, "are you doing?"

"Making you calm down enough to breathe." Tannusen said, unworried. "You panicked when you realized how well you were breathing before."

"I did not... -_panic_-." Raistlin snarled the last word out, shoving the elf's hands away.

"Oh?" the blond said, his tone innocent, "My, funny how that timing works out, then..."

This gave the mage pause, and he considered it. It was certainly true that he'd breathed just fine when his mind wasn't involved... whatever the elf had done to him to make his head shut down earlier had left him breathing even better than he had before his Test. Was it triggered by panic? Anger? Strong emotion in general? His head swam with the implications.

"I have you thinking, I see." Tannusen, nearly forgotten entirely, said from behind him. Raistlin jumped slightly and then seethed. The damned assassin was already playing with him again, apparently. He took up the nearby Staff of Magius and struggled to his feet, turning to glare down at the elf.

Who simply spread his hands and smiled, looking distinctly rumpled in the faint light.

Raistlin snorted, and walked around the desk to light one of the oil lamps standing nearby as the elf, stiffly, climbed up off of the floor. He plucked the cushion Raistlin had been seated on from the rug as well and returned it to its chair, moving as though his legs were both mostly asleep. And they probably were, considering.

"Schedule for the week, Mister Majere?" he asked, walking to just within the range of the newly-lit lamp.

"Just come back at noon." Raistlin said, sounding distracted as he sat down at his desk.

"All week?"

"Yes."

"Every day?"

"Yes, fine, now get out!" the archmage snarled, waving his hand impatiently at the door. He had to think this over, and he couldn't do that with the damned assassin gabbing on like an overgrown Kender. Tannusen smiled at this and bowed, leaving without another word.

The next day went much the same way, with Tannusen convincing the mage to sit closely in front of him and then matching breathing. Just as before, the elf managed to deepen their breathing over the course of a full session, though his bringing Raistlin back out of it was much less jarring than before. Much the same happened the next day, and the next, and so on.

By the end of the week the mage no longer required coaxing into place, and was able to relax around Tannusen without nearly so much effort or time. But it was the last session of that week that would prove to be the next step, and Raistlin hadn't a clue of what he was getting into.

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 02.05.2006:

Here's where the rating goes up to Mature...

Review-replies can be found on arowrites dot net.

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( six )

Of course, Raistlin had noticed. He would have had to have been completely oblivious to his surroundings not to. Over the course of the week, Tannusen had gradually become more... was the correct word affectionate?

A hand would trace a slow pattern wherever it rested, or the elf would tilt his head forward to rest on his shoulder, instead of back against the desk. Whenever he did this, it seemed his hair and breath would always brush lightly against the side of the archmage's neck. Small things, things that weren't particularly seductive in nature, but that the mage took notice of anyway and--after the first tense moment or three--found that he didn't particularly mind. Much.

He wasn't at all used to being handled in such a manner, no matter how quietly, but he couldn't find much room to complain. His breathing had certainly been improving, his lungs somehow getting more used to the idea of actually filling, and his mind not rebelling quite so harshly at the idea.

_This cannot be! I am going to choke!_ This was how Raistlin had reacted on that first day. But now, with all of this proof that he was physically capable of something close to how he'd breathed before his Test, that reaction had diminished. Certainly, he had never been a paragon of good health, even when he had stared at the world through blue eyes and been stared back at for reasons other than his mere appearance, but regardless.

It was a marked improvement, anyway. And if Tannusen was acting more... warm, towards their sessions than on the first day, well, that wasn't so bad either. Though he reacted terribly strongly to anything the assassin did to him, and things would come back to his mind late at night when he was trying to sleep. Still, it wasn't bad, just awkward, and as long as the damned elf didn't know--

"You know, Mister Majere..." that purring voice was even more... whatever it was, at this range. Raistlin was tucked back against him in the midst of another session, his thoughts triggered by yet another small gesture, another almost suggestive, almost tender action. The fact that Tannusen had been so bold as to press a kiss to his shoulder, and hold it there, in specific. Right now he felt the assassin's voice as a vibration against his back, and warm air through his robes.

"What?" the mage snapped, suddenly irritated by his own reactions. There was nothing particularly seductive about the fact that the elf had chosen to rest his head on his shoulder. It just felt that way because it was mouth-to-velvet, instead of Tannusen turning his head to the side as he usually did. Surely that was all... he shivered despite himself.

He knew that Tannusen was 'willing to sleep with him', as he had put it before, but the difference between knowing this and really -_knowing_- hadn't been bridged. Besides which, certainly the assassin hadn't meant it seriously. Raistlin had played the words over and over in his head during those times when he couldn't sleep, all during the week, and had come to the conclusion that Tannusen had been merely toying with him.

All the more reason to keep his... well, whatever you wanted to call these strange moments late at night, with their vivid flashbacks to a simple caress or accidental touch... a firm secret. He would -_not_- be mocked.

And he was good at keeping his secrets from others. Tannusen didn't appear to have the faintest clue... and this made it all safe, didn't it? Not that he could stop those moments anyway, he knew because he had tried. But at least, Raistlin reasoned, he could take some satisfaction out of not having to worry too terribly much about them. What did it harm anything if he found himself, when between wakefulness and sleep, imagining long, silver hair curled around his fingers?

The man was pretty enough, and long-lived as any elf, which meant that Raistlin could avoid watching him rot every time he looked his way. He was spending an awful lot of time around him, on top of all of that, so it was only natural... right? Although the mage had never considered himself... well, into men. The whole thing was confusing, and frustrating. But Raistlin was fairly certain that this would fade away quickly enough and leave him in peace.

Yes, all of this would fade away, with better breathing and whatever else the blond had in store for him as payment...

"If I did not know any better..." the blond's voice interrupted his thoughts as a hand left his torso, skating up to the shoulder and then sliding down the mage's arm to take his hand. Raistlin flinched as the elf captured his long fingers, but it was a gentle grip, not at all painful or controlling.

"What?" Raistlin finally demanded again when the blond didn't appear to be continuing. Feeling his face heat as Tannusen raised his captured hand to his shoulder, Raistlin jerked it back out of the elf's gentle grip. But the assassin didn't seem at all offended or daunted by this, and made no move to recover his prize. He instead settled his hand lower, over the mage's chest, fingers tracing that idle, warm pattern through the velvet.

Only, this time, it was strategically placed... teasing, rubbing, rolling. Raistlin's eyes widened impossibly, breath catching.

"If I didn't know any better," Tannusen turned his head so that he spoke into the mage's neck, not quite touching, but almost, "I would almost say that you're a bit... turned on by this." dry lips brushed gently against the skin below his ear, Raistlin shivered and angled his head away without thinking, exposing more of his neck. The blond chuckled, softly, before something wet and hot traced a line up the neck and to the mage's jaw.

/ _He... he just licked me!_ / this shocked Raistlin back into thinking again, and he jerked away from the elf, eyes wide and breath heavy.

"W-what do you think you're doing!" he yelped, most indignant as the blond's unoccupied hand came to rest on the mage's thigh, squeezing gently. Insistently. The other was still tracing those maddening patterns... it seemed to catch the breath in his chest and tug on it. He'd never been... handled, like this before. Had never even considered that he could react so strongly to it.

"Tell me to stop." Tannusen said, voice soft, before he placed another kiss on the velvet-covered shoulder. The hand on his thigh eased in the direction of his knee, squeezing again. "Just say it, mister Majere, and I will. It's alright..."

"N... no." Raistlin gasped, making his decision with a mind that was not entirely as clear as usual. The elf paused, started to draw away, clearly thinking he meant not to do anything more. Raistlin panicked, so caught up in these sensations that if the assassin stopped now he would never, ever allow it again. "D-don't stop." the mage shut his eyes, beyond embarrassed.

But the hands resumed motion, and Tannusen nuzzled gently against the side of his neck. The hand on the mage's leg moved off to one side, tugging at a string, opening that part of the robes, and then it was inside. Against Raistlin's trousers, the long fingers squeezed again and in one motion suddenly slid -_up_- and -_in_-.

Raistlin gasped, shuddered, gripping the elf's thighs in his hands and trying to lean forward--only to have the pressure against his chest increase from it. Those nerves Tannusen was teasing and coaxing seemed to spark, almost painfully. But what little of the mage's sane mind had still been present at this point suddenly took off as Tannusen's other hand expertly loosened the laces at his waist, slipped in, and -_gripped_- him.

He whimpered, hips thrusting instinctually, spine arching, not caring at all about how he looked just now, just moving mindlessly. It was only a matter of seconds before Raistlin came, hard, seeing bursts of light as his mind threatened to black out, gasping raggedly for breath as his world narrowed, wavered, twisted...

The archmage passed out.

Tannu sighed as Raistlin went rag-doll in his arms. The poor man had completely fainted, clearly too unused to the sort of overload that the assassin had so carefully wrung from his nerves. It had been entirely un-confirmable whether Majere was indeed a virgin or not, but, either way it was obvious that the man hadn't been handled in such a way in a long time. If ever.

Knowing that the mage should only be out for a few minutes, Tannusen moved his hand from Raistlin's chest long enough to take a cloth out of his pocket. He used this to clean the mage up, as well as his other hand. There wasn't much he could do under the circumstances, but is was better than nothing.

By the time the golden-skinned man stirred and began to regain his consciousness, his clothes had been straightened and tied shut again. Tannusen's arms were simply holding him up, gentle, almost... protective. Raistlin could feel himself blushing furiously.

"Why did you do that?" he was tired, he realized, and sounded it. But the archmage wasn't about to simply give in to the urge to sleep, not without answers.

"Because I want to earn your trust, mister Majere, remember?" there was a smile to Tannusen's voice, and Raistlin didn't have to turn his head to know it was in place. "Besides," the blond continued, "I imagine that you needed it by now."

It didn't take much processing power to get the implication in that statement.

"You knew." the mage's voice was flat, cold. Dangerous.

"I didn't know," Tannusen corrected him, apparently undaunted by Raistlin's tone. He released the archmage, who climbed unsteadily to his feet and turned to glare at the elf, trying not to sway on the spot. "I'd hoped." the blond added, smiling up at him as always.

Raistlin snorted, turned, and made his way to the nearest chair. He collapsed into it as Tannusen performed his everyday ritual of climbing up onto his feet and putting the cushion away, legs unsteady from a day of sitting on the floor. The mage wondered why the idiot never grabbed himself a second cushion, but refrained from asking. If Tannusen wanted to enjoy pins and needles in the legs every evening, that was his own business.

"Shall I come back tomorrow?" Tannusen's voice jarred Raistlin out of almost dozing off, and he stared at the elf for a moment.

"Yes, in the morning." he replied, an idea already forming. He'd get the damned blond back for... exposing him like this, even if it was just between the two of them. Raistlin's cheeks warmed slightly with embarrassment. Gods, the blond had practically molested him! Practically, of course, didn't mean that he had. The mage's logical side reminded him that the assassin had given him countless opportunities over the week, and today as well, to tell him to stop.

"And for the week?" Tannusen asked, cutting into Raistlin's thoughts again just as the archmage was going about mentally cursing his logical side up and down the Tower.

"I have an experiment that needs tending for two days after tomorrow." he said, sounding as dismissive as he could manage on such low energy, "Other than that, come back every day for the rest."

"Alright, mister Majere," Tannusen bowed, "until morning then..."

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 02.14.06:

Several years ago on Valentine's Day was the very first day that Tannu was ever roleplayed. He literally skipped into his first thread, which happened to be at the Valentine's Day Ball, and immediately set about scaring half of the locals witless and flattering the rest into puddles. Tannusen Wind Ashkeveron was the last of the "Aro Trio" to be created, joining ranks with his older half-sister, Weaponsmaster Alleyana Rain Ashkeveron, and the Necromancer/Coroner depending on the fandom Megan Dorothy Jones.

So, happy birthday Tannusen! And now, for the rest of you, have some borderline smut. XD This chapter is where the M rating comes into play, although nothing has been trimmed out of the ffnet version yet. When I start trimming to keep the rating at Mature, I'll let you guys know, and you'll be able to find the complete versions at other archives listed on my profile.

As usual, review-replies can be found on the newly-opened arowrites dot net!

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( seven )

"I want you to strip."

"Oh?" Tannusen blinked, admittedly taken by surprise by the archmage's request. He hadn't met the elf at the base of the Tower this morning. So, Tannu had simply come up to the library himself, knowing that the guardians would stop him if the mage had changed his mind during the night. The very building he stood in would be quick to tell him if Majere didn't want him around today.

"You've proven that you will be intimate with my own, cursed, body." Raistlin said, lowering his quill and folding his hands on the desk, "Thus far I have been the only one... exposed." the mage couldn't stop the very faint blush at that, despite his efforts to seem completely cold on the subject.

Tannusen laughed lightly, far from being offended.

"I see, I see. You wish to... inspect the goods, so to speak." came that extra purr in his voice, and that mischievous smile accompanying it. But he didn't wait for Raistlin to repeat himself, immediately turning to a nearby chair and first pulling off his tall white boots. The white socks beneath were pulled off and folded, set inside the leather footwear, which he tucked beneath the bit of furniture.

Turning to smile broadly at the archmage, the elf then began to unlace his shirt. Quickly, efficiently, he didn't linger over the laces or slowly peel anything away. Nothing intentionally seductive. First the laces at the wrists, then at the throat, and the loose white garment was soon pulled over his head, revealing the sculpted muscle of an elven warrior.

The loose (white, of course) pants were also unlaced, and removed without fuss to join the shirt on the chair. And nothing, apparently, was worn beneath them. Finally Tannusen approached Raistlin's desk, coming to a halt where he'd stood before, hands hanging loosely at his sides.

Raistlin watched all of this with surprise. No one had ever... well... he'd never -_asked_- anyone to, either, but no one had ever stood in front of him in such a state of undress. Let alone without embarrassment. He stood, carefully, and approached the strikingly pale elf who practically glowed in the morning's light.

What a contrast, the two made, metallic gold and velvet black, circling slowly around white and platinum, an almost blue tint to the skin where clothing usually covered. Several old and faded scars dotted Tannusen's skin; a line here and a burn there, mostly across his back and shoulders, visible where the hair allowed, and a few across the stomach. Some more recent than others, and the occasional bruise across the ribs, but nothing unexpected on the frame of an assassin.

Without really thinking about it, Raistlin reached out one hand and trailed his fingertips across the sculpted shoulder, down the back, watching the skin prickle with goose-bumps at the contact. Tannusen didn't seem to take offense one bit to being handled, so he repeated the motion, this time allowing his palm to rest on the curve of one cheek below.

There was a sigh, but a glance at Tannusen's profile showed contentment rather than impatience. Raistlin stepped closer, curiosity and nerve both growing swiftly with the blond's lack of discomfort. His free hand trailed from the shoulders across the chest, down to the stomach where it stopped, suddenly. He wasn't going to go... well, -_there_-.

"Do I pass inspection?" came that purring voice.

"I suppose you might." Raistlin's tone was lofty, completely masking his nervousness. Surely the blond would realize in a moment that he was letting him--the ever frail and unattractive Raistlin Majere--handle him. He would then jerk away, or flinch, or...

"You haven't even looked where I expected you would, mister Majere." Tannusen purred, "You may as well... I'm not shy."

Blushing faintly with the (true) implication that it was Raistlin's own shyness stopping him, the mage gave a well-crafted, disdainful snort and allowed his eyes to drift downwards. After a few heartbeats, his hand did as well--the tips of his fingers lightly brushing past the white hair and feathering down the length of the elf's relaxed...

The blush darkened when the velvet skin under his sensitive fingertips gave a light pulse of interest, and he snatched his hand away as though burned.

Strangely, Tannusen didn't laugh at him.

Raistlin raised his gaze back to the elf's face, curious, and found that the assassin was staring at him with half-lidded eyes, the faintest of blushes coloring his pale skin. He watched Tannusen's expression, curious, as he repeated the delicate caress, and the blond's breath caught--lips parting ever-so-slightly.

"I have this much effect on you?" the archmage questioned, again raising his hand to the elf's lower stomach, pausing.

"Your touch is very--ah--!" Tannusen's eyes shut for just a brief moment as Raistlin's fingertips passed over him again, just as lightly, "...Very warm, mister Majere."

"And you will allow me to handle you in this way?"

"If it helps you to." the assassin all but whispered, eyes closing again as the mage's hand finally wrapped--loosely--around him. Remembering what Tannusen had done to him, Raistlin snaked his free arm around the blond's waist, stepping closer yet as he squeezed slowly. The elf's breath hitched sharply as the mage drug his hand down, and then back up...

"What is this?" the archmage asked, suddenly, hooking a finger underneath a thin black cord that circled the elf at the base. He'd not noticed it before, as his fingertips had moved too lightly to snag it, and it was as thin as a hair--not very visible. The blond glanced down and gulped, audibly.

"It is a... precaution." Tannusen finally answered, haltingly.

"A precaution." Majere dead-panned, "Against what?"

"It's enchanted, it..." the blond swallowed, and the mage's eyes narrowed. Nothing had made the elf nervous before, not even disrobing before Majere's cold, calculating gaze. "I keeps me from... from finishing." he finally ground out. Raistlin blinked, genuinely surprised.

"Why?" the mage asked, letting go of the elf--and the thread--entirely. His hands fisted lightly at his sides, and he stepped back perhaps a foot, frowning at his own reaction. This... whatever it was, was power of a different sort, however... with the elf holding something like this in check, it wasn't complete.

In response, Tannusen turned towards the archmage, raising a hand and gently cupping a metallic-colored cheek against his palm. Raistlin jumped slightly, but then--remembering where his own hands had been just a moment before--realized that he didn't have much ground from which to complain about being handled.

"Do you remember when I told you that I myself am more than a bit... messed up?" asked the blond, smiling a bit sadly.

"Yes?"

"Well, that's part of it." Tannusen actually whispered, before leaning forward and brushing his lips against Raistlin's. The mage jerked back, opening his mouth in a gasp, but the elf followed the motion so smoothly that there was only a gap of a few inches, and a mere second, between that first brush and...

The archmage shivered, although not from cold, and his eyes slid shut as his face grew heated in what had to be another embarrassing blush. But the assassin's kiss grazed him again, and this time the very tip of the elf's tongue brushed gently against the mage's bottom lip...

Quite suddenly Raistlin didn't -_care_- about looking like a fool, or about being the inexperienced one. When Tannusen began to pull away, he jerked forward and captured the elf's mouth in turn, eliciting a purr from the assassin as he bruised their lips against each other. After a moment of this, the blond pulled back more forcefully, hands on Raistlin's thin shoulders keeping him from pressing his advantage yet again.

"You're a fast learner, mister Majere." came that purring voice, and the mage smirked.

"I always am." indeed, it wasn't as though he'd never seen his brother kissing a barmaid against a wall, or halfway up a set of stairs, or wherever -_else_- was convenient. Although, it had mostly looked disgusting at the time...

"Have a seat?" Tannusen suggested, gesturing at a nearby armchair. "I have a bit of an idea for you."

Curious, Raistlin did as he was asked, setting his arms down on the rests and resisting picking at the upholstery in sudden nervousness as the tall elf stepped close, looming. The blond set his hands on the rests next to the mage's own and leaned forward, nuzzling Raistlin's neck.

"Now," the assassin breathed, his voice hot against the archmage's skin, "remember to tell me if this is too fast." here he paused, waiting, but Raistlin said nothing.

After a moment had passed, and then another, the elf planted an open-mouthed kiss just below his ear. The mage shivered, gripping the arms of the chair a bit harder as his earlobe was briefly captured and nibbled on gently. One of Tannusen's hands left its armrest, ghosting across Raistlin's chest as the blond lowered his attention to the skin near the base of the mage's neck.

"Please, don't hold back any of your reactions, mister Majere." murmured the elf, untying the hidden bows that held the archmage's velvet robes closed, dropping his attention further to a collar-bone as more skin was revealed. When the robes were undone and opened entirely, the assassin gently took hold of the mage's knees, eased them apart, and knelt in between them.

"No matter what they are?" Raistlin choked out, shaking slightly as Tannusen took hold of his hips, drawing him toward the edge of the chair. He wasn't nearly as bare as the pale elf was... he still had his boots and his trousers, after all. And of course the robes were still technically on, so why did -_he_- feel so exposed?

"No matter what they are." the blond agreed in a slightly lower purr than usual, nuzzling against the mage's trouser-covered thigh. The words were felt as much as heard; warm air exhaled into the crease between his leg and his... oh Gods, what was he...

Raistlin leaned his head forward just in time to watch Tannusen licking at the cloth-covered reaction in question. Angling his head to one side, the elf closed his eyes and licked again firmly, tongue dragging ever... so... slowly...

The archmage gave in, and groaned.

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 05.07.2006:

This chapter is rated M. Nothing else to really say about it, though I am curious as to who all thinks it's going too slow and who all thinks it's going too fast. The interaction, that is. Personally, I don't think it's too fast--Tannusen is very seductive, and Raistlin's on his own turf with spectral guardians standing by to rip Tannu apart if he does anything unwanted... (_XD_)

But I'm curious, anyway... so let's have them opinions! I know you've all got 'em in one direction or another! (_;D_)

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( eight )

Raistlin's breath hitched again as Tannu pulled him just a bit closer to the edge of the chair, looping his arms beneath the mage's legs. The blond's knowing smile turned more gentle as he nuzzled his cheek softly against the heated skin of the archmage's stomach, considering how far he could safely take this.

/ _Such a strange temperature._ / Tannusen thought/ _And such a rare shyness in one so powerful..._ /

He jumped, just a tiny bit, as a pair of still velvet-clad arms settled across his shoulders. Raistlin fidgeted a bit, nervously...? and the blond placed a kiss onto the warm skin he had been cuddling against. Lowering his head again, Tannu licked again along the concealed bulge, his tongue flat and insistent, and the mage's hips gave a small involuntary thrust. The elf paused over the head with his lips against the dark cotton, mouthing words that had no meaning.

"T-Tannusen..." Raistlin gasped when the assassin began to suck on him through his trousers. Tannu paused, guiltily drinking in the helpless note to that voice before he raised his eyes to the mage's face, expecting a sign to stop. The archmage's hands clenched and released fitfully in the elf's long hair, but didn't move to control him in either direction. Flushed cheeks, breathing through the mouth, and strange eyes burning into the assassin, burning with something familiar to the elf--but alien to Majere.

No, that wasn't a signal to stop at all. And Raistlin could easily jerk him back if that was what he wanted, anyway. Tannusen resumed his light sucking, knowing that while the archmage wasn't getting much of it through his trousers, it already was far more than he was used to dealing with. The mage gave another choked gasp, hips jerking once, twice... and Tannu pulled away before the game could end entirely.

/ _More sensitive than I realized._ / the blond thought, calculating, ignoring Raistlin's hiss of frustration as he moved his attention back up... this time to the ties holding the trousers closed. / _I almost pushed too far, too soon..._ /

Now the mage -_was_- trying to control his head--with sharp, impatient jerks downwards on his hair, but this he ignored as well. The only cue he would heed would be to stop, or pull away, and--as the assassin had promised at the start--he would not be rushed. Finding the correct end to the string, Tannusen took the cord between his teeth and tugged it free, undoing the bow. Raistlin let go of his hair abruptly, moving his hands back to pick at the armrests as he realized just what the elf was doing, and Tannu chuckled.

"Yes, mister Majere," he murmured quietly in between working the laces loose, "I'm getting there."

With the strings as undone as they could get, Tannusen placed a small kiss just above the patch of barely-visible white hair. The mage squirmed, just slightly, but still the blond ignored the heaviness angled just off to one side, trapped by the cloth. His hands finally moved, his arms still hooked beneath the archmage's legs, and Raistlin jumped--just ever so slightly--when the elf's hands slid beneath him.

"May I?" asked the assassin, tugging lightly on the black cotton. For a reply Raistlin, wordlessly lifted himself off of the chair just enough for Tannusen to drag the trousers out of his way... if only barely. Smiling a bit at the archmage's obvious impatience, the elf leaned back in just a bit to gently lick at the very tip of Raistlin's newly-freed--

--The sound that escaped the mage's throat nearly broke Tannusen's concentration entirely. He shivered, hesitating, refusing to rush--in fact, even more against the very idea. This was something you definitely did not fumble around with, no matter -_how_- deliciously Raistlin could whimper the word "_please_"...

He shivered again, lightly, skin prickling along the back of his neck as the archmage repeated the sound. And then, holding the mage's hips firmly in place with both of his hands, he finally allowed the very end between his lips.

Raistlin gasped, raggedly, fingers finding Tannusen's hair again and pulling desperately as that skilled tongue lapped at the barely-captured flesh. While Majere was indeed much stronger than he appeared, however, he couldn't make the elf take any more of him in, and he sobbed openly in frustration.

The blond drank in all of these reactions, reveling in them despite himself. He waited, letting the swollen head in further to rest against his tongue as he suckled gently. Just a bit more, now. He backed off a fraction, waiting for that one moment, that one where the mage would give in, just a bit. Just... and there it was--Raistlin's hands relaxing in their death-grip on the elf's hair just... like... so. A surrender, a yield; mild and subconscious--but there nonetheless.

Tannu -_lunged_- forward, engulfing Raistlin down to the root in one plunge, and sucking so hard that the mage threw back his head and -_screamed_-, raggedly. Fingers convulsed in the elf's hair, and Raistlin's entire frame shook as Tannusen simply closed his eyes and took it all in. The desperate scrabbling of fingertips against his scalp, the pressure of hips trying reflexively to move against his hands, and the hot seed bursting down his throat in spasms.

It was all so familiar. But yet, so different...

"T... Ta... Tannu..." Raistlin half gasped, half sobbed as he finally began to calm down. He released the blond's head, slumping back into the cushioned chair, rag-doll. "I... a... are you..."

"Shh, I'm fine." Tannusen murmured quietly after carefully releasing the mage, his movements even more gentle than usual as he fixed Raistlin's trousers. Taking just a moment, he rose and quickly donned his own pair--leaving the rest of his clothes as they were on their chair. When he returned, padding silently on bare feet across the carpet, Raistlin was almost asleep.

"Where is your bedroom?" the blond asked, "You need to rest... I will take you there."

"Directly above us." the mage stirred, gesturing weakly at the closed door that led out to the corridor with its winding staircases. Tannu went to it, pausing to glance back at the archmage, but no warnings came forth, and so the assassin opened the door and peered out and up the incline. Well, it was a good thing he was in shape, Tannusen reasoned, as he returned to gather the mage.

Who had dozed off completely.

Chuckling softly at that, the blond knelt beside the chair, slipping an arm beneath Raistlin's knees and the other behind his thin shoulders. He took a deep breath, held it, and eased up onto his feet with the most feared man on Krynn blinking drowsily up at him from in his arms. The mage didn't seem to take offence to being moved, at least, and Tannu proceeded out into the corridor.

This place had way too many stairs, the blond realized a few minutes later and halfway to his goal. The mages who had originally built this Tower had clearly been smoking their own spell components. A spectral guardian drifted through the wall next to him, but Tannusen paid the creature no real heed, his concentration focused on keeping his balance firm as he reached the end of another landing and began climbing again.

Similarly, he didn't notice that his passenger was still mostly awake, watching him.

/ _He's heavier than he looks, too, but that could be those robes._ /

"This door?" the assassin asked when he thought they'd come full circle now.

"Next one." came the whispered reply. Tannusen moved along to the next door, allowing Raistlin to open it for him and then stepping through. This room was mostly dark even though it was mid-day, heavy drapes cut off most of the natural light, leaving it as dim as though it were sundown outside.

"Through that door." the mage instructed before he could ask, and the elf soon found that the bedroom was even darker. He moved to the bed, pushed the covers out of the way with his knee, and laid Raistlin down carefully.

"You didn't have to..."

"It's alright," Tannu smiled, "Wash room?"

Another weak gesture, picked up by elven sight in the darkness. The blond moved around the bed and through an open door into an even darker room. Relying on a type of sight born more from growing up as an assassin, rather than from being non-human, he found a washcloth and a shallow basin of water. Strangely, the liquid was already warm, although the stoneware itself was cold.

Shrugging, he dipped the washcloth in and returned to Raistlin's side, setting the cloth down on the arm of a nearby wooden chair before busying himself with removing the mage's boots. The archmage didn't stir out of his almost-sleep until those and the socks were gone, and Tannusen had the trousers half off before Majere tried to speak.

"What..."

"I'm not doing anything bad to you, mister Majere, please relax." amazingly, Raistlin did as he was asked. Tannusen spoke before the mage could doze off again, "The container in the washroom, with the warm liquid... it is plain water?"

"Yes."

"Just making sure." the blond said, pulling the dark cotton the rest of the way off of Raistlin's legs. He used the washcloth to clean the mage up, ignoring the hands that weakly tried to push his away, and then closed the velvet robes that still clung to the man's frame. Finally, he pulled the covers up, daring to go so far as to tuck Raistlin in, who was... once again, more than halfway asleep.

"Rest a bit, mister Majere, it's only natural." Tannusen said, pulling the wooden chair closer and sitting down, "I will still be here when you wake up."

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 06.04.2006:

This chapter might seem very out of place if you didn't just read the last one. Or at least the last chunk of the last one... yeah. You guys know what I mean. (_XD_) AWN is down for now, but when it comes back up I'll be doing review responses again... so in the meantime, thank you to all of those who read and leave notes and or feedback. (_hands out cookies_)

**05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. _Please_ just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.**

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
**Silver Tongue and Golden Wit**  
( nine )

"Where did you... learn to do that?" Raistlin's voice pulled the blond out of his thoughts several hours later, the mage having managed to sleep for most of the day. It was approaching evening already, and Tannusen had started a blaze in the room's large fireplace to keep the chamber warm. Since then, he'd resumed his seat and had been staring off into space, mind wandering along paths both light and dark.

The assassin smiled a bit at Raistlin, who hadn't moved at all except to open his eyes and to speak just now. He considered his answer carefully for a moment.

"Location is irrelevant." he began, cutting off the mage before he could object to such a poor answer, "That is what they told me. I myself do not know what city it was... I never left the building unless there was a bag over my head, and there were no windows."

"You were a captive?"

"I... don't really know." Tannu shrugged. "I never tried to escape, never thought of it really. But regardless, that building is where I learned... that. The second half of my training."

"You continue to claim you are not a whore, and yet that was in your training?" Raistlin snapped, his tone as sharp as a dagger, "Do all assassins know how to... to..." the mage's voice faded off and the man simply lifted an arm out of the blankets and gestured.

"Seduce? Charm? Flatter?" the blond supplied. Golden eyes blinked at him in surprise, and the faintest of blushes tinged his high cheekbones again, and so Tannu added, "...Suck?"

Raistlin's blush darkened, he seemed to shrink into the pillow and blankets, mortified. The elf's smile turned slightly melancholy as he reached out and captured Raistlin's hand, leaning forward in his chair to do so. He held the fine-boned fingers in one of his hands and stroked the back with his other, openly admiring the metallic coloration in the faint light.

"No, I don't suppose that they do." Tannu continued in a much quieter tone, as though he spoke to the hand itself rather than the one to whom it belonged. "But I am not a mere assassin, mister Majere... I am a Shadow. I was meant to kill others from the moment I was born, and through pure irony alone am I incapable of wielding a proper weapon."

The captured fingers twitched, just ever-so-slightly, as he raised them to his lips, brushed against the back of the golden-skinned hand.

"I see." Raistlin said, understanding the implications easily. It was a sneaky, sly, wholly risky way to go about ones business as a killer. But he understood such measures, if not--in this particular case--the specific method in question. No proper weapon, he said, and at the same time every nuance of Tannusen's behavior seemed crafted to mislead. Seduce, charm, flatter, suck, did it matter how many guards you set if -_he_- gained access right under one's armor, physically as well as psychologically?

"And so," the mage continued after a moment's thought, staring at his own hand still captured between the elf's, "if you had been here to kill me..."

"I would have done so as you slept. Peaceful, unaware, relaxed... perhaps almost happy...? I cannot say. But if I had been here to kill you, mister Majere, your neck would have been broken in your sleep, and you would have never known." he set Raistlin's hand down again, carefully--almost reverently, and leaned back in the chair to give the archmage his distance.

"You would have carried me up here regardless?" asked Raistlin, "You still would have..." he trailed off again, eyes wider than they ordinarily might have been. He wasn't afraid, Tannusen would have picked up on that easily enough. It was more... surprise? and something between confusion and... wonder? Was the idea of anyone doing such a thing that alien? Apparently so. "But..."

"Yes and yes, mister Majere." Tannu cut in before he could ask why, "I would have done everything exactly as I did, on all points, with the one obvious exception." he sighed, then, rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. "It is sundown outside, I should leave so that you can sleep..." he eased to his feet, putting the chair back where he'd found it. But when the blond turned to leave, and passed near the bed, his hand was caught by the mage's own.

"Stay." Raistlin whispered, so faintly that even the elf's hearing barely caught it.

"I..." Tannusen blinked, staring down at the archmage for a moment. That hadn't sounded like a lofty order, or even an assumed one, and he wondered what had changed so fast that the mage would actually -_ask_- something of him. But the elf had initially said that he would stay the night if Raistlin ever wanted him to, and so he inclined his head, "...as you wish, mister Majere."

The golden-skinned hand dropped from his, and the assassin walked around to the other side of the bed, hesitating a moment to see if the mage had changed his mind. But Raistlin simply shut his eyes and relaxed, and so Tannu obediently slid under the covers, laying so that he faced the archmage.

He shut his eyes as well, and had dozed off for several minutes with the ability of one who took sleep wherever they could find it, before Raistlin moved. So very hesitantly... so unsure, his heartbeat loud enough for the elf to hear it... he slid closer to the killer next to him. A fearful pause, and then he moved again, closer yet. Tannusen stirred, causing the mage to freeze in place, his pulse hammering fiercer yet. Frightened in the darkness.

Raistlin was scared, Tannu knew, but not of death. Rejection, weakness, pity, fear itself... those were the things that made the world inside this Tower revolve. It hadn't taken a week to discover this, and the only warnings he'd gathered from them had been the ones he followed anyway; Tread Carefully.

And so the elf simply laid his lower arm out along the pillows and reached with his other to draw the archmage close to him. The opposite of the expected, the positive side of the coin. Raistlin sucked in a sharp breath in obvious surprise, but then relaxed as Tannusen dozed back off again. Or seemed to, at any rate.

"Just don't fall for me, Mister Majere..." Tannu murmured sleepily, placing a chaste kiss on top of Raistlin's head, pillowed on his arm. The rest came as a sigh into the soft white hair, "...I am truly not worth it..."

Raistlin didn't sleep for many hours after, eyes open and staring.

* * *

It wasn't much, and it wasn't obvious.

Raistlin reflected that if he wasn't such a light sleeper, and entirely unused to sharing his space, he would never have even been woken. But he was, anyway, in the middle of the night with the very faint feeling that something was -_off_-. He was spooned back against the elf as though this were another breathing exercise, loosely embraced by the arm under his neck and the other over his waist.

Those limbs wrapped around him twitched, ever-so-slightly, followed by the fingers of the hand Raistlin had captured in his own when asleep. A leg next--tucked behind the mage's own. Nothing jarring, or large, or even particularly alarming... just a small tweak of muscle, a mere twinge. But most telling of all was the heartbeat he could feel against his back, rapid, harsh, and the breathing against his scalp; halting, frightened.

Tannusen was in the depths of a nightmare. Oh, yes, Raistlin knew the signs quite well.

And then, just as the archmage was considering waking the elf out of his dreams, if only for the sake of sleeping in peace, there was a tiny gasp against the back of his head as the assassin woke up all on his own. Raistlin kept his eyes closed and his breathing even, expertly feigning sleep, and the moments went by in silence as Tannusen seemed to freeze entirely. In fact, the archmage had almost dozed back off again despite his curiosity before anything else happened at all.

But suddenly the breathing against the back of his neck stopped entirely, the elf drawing his head back and away without moving the rest of himself. Raistlin remained still, alert but uncertain, and then he could smell the very faint tinge of salt. Tannusen was crying.

"What did you dream?" he was surprised to hear himself ask out loud, voice almost whisper-quiet as he blew his own act. Raistlin shifted, turning onto his back and peering into the darkness towards the faint sound of choked breathing and the smell of salt. The fire had died, leaving him no light to see by, and the only sign that the elf had heard him at all, at first, was that he released the mage.

Or tried to, anyway, the arm belonging to the hand Raistlin had captured remained curled under the mage's neck, held fast.

If anything, his curiosity only grew with the silence. Tannusen did nothing but smile in the daylight--sometimes sadly, to be honest, but a smile nonetheless--but apparently, this was not always the case. When his mind was weak with sleep and his mental defenses lowered, Raistlin wondered what was found underneath the smiles and bows and the charming, carefully-framed words...

"Blood." came the answer, finally, in the blond's ragged, choking, but somehow still-purring voice. It was drenched in pain, "I dreamt of blood..."

Raistlin felt as though he'd found a most interesting crack in the puzzle. Something that he could hardly help poking at, and wouldn't stop himself even if he thought to bother. But right now wasn't really the most opportune moment to pick at the assassin's emotional scabs, and so he was silent, staring up into the dark.

"I am sorry I woke you." Tannusen whispered, "I should go."

Not bothering to think on it, Raistlin released the elf's long-fingered hand. The assassin slipped his arm out from underneath the mage's head, very gently, and then moved off of the bed. He smoothed the blankets out behind him in an automatic sort of manner and then finally--without another word--padded across the stone floor on bare feet, leaving the room.

Raistlin frowned into the darkness, raising a hand to the pillow the elf had used. The cloth cover was warm and soaked with salt water, and the golden fingertips idly traced patterns against it as the mage considered this new development.

/ _What sort of an assassin has nightmares about blood?_ / he wondered, coming back to this thought over and over before he dozed back off again. His hand remained curled against the tears left behind.

---- ----: -x- :---- ----  
Dragonlance © someone else.  
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.  
Never steal if you value your spleen.

Reviews are lovely, reviews make the Aro happy, and a happy Aro is more inspired to write. However, they are not absolutely required, and flames will result in a very annoyed Aro. I'm not forcing you to read my stuff, you must realize. So I've no sympathy for you if you read it, hate it, and yet can't keep your pointer off the review button.

Constructive criticism is awesome, but I can tell thinly-veiled sarcasm when I see it.


End file.
